


lost as a snowflake in the sea

by InsolitaParvaPuella



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Flashbacks, Food, Foreplay, Married Couple, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:27:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26842138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsolitaParvaPuella/pseuds/InsolitaParvaPuella
Summary: Though happily wedded now, the worst moments of their lives together are recorded on Sylvain's body.
Relationships: Sylvain Jose Gautier/Mercedes von Martritz
Comments: 3
Kudos: 19





	lost as a snowflake in the sea

**Author's Note:**

> title brazenly stolen from Sara Teasdale's ["I Am Not Yours"](https://poets.org/poem/i-am-not-yours)
> 
> this fic is a sandwich with two slices of domestic intimacy around what I can only describe as "bad things happen to Sylvain and Mercedes repeatedly", which I'm discovering is a running theme of mine this october. bad things happening, i mean. so this is your heads up that things will get worse before anyone bones down.

“Did you ever think we’d get to be like this?” Sylvain asks, looking fully content to be resting his head on Mercedes’ bare thighs.

 _No_ , Mercedes thinks, looking at the great scar across Sylvain’s belly.

She picks one of the chocolates off the tray beside her and brings it to his mouth. “I hoped so,” she says. “Though I never thought to imagine this exact moment.”

“We are full of surprises,” Sylvain says, nipping the ends of her fingers as he takes the treat from her. He lets out an exaggerated groan. “We owe Petra bushels of beets for this.”

“I’ll make a note of it,” she promises. She adjusts her posture a bit, shifting the pillows supporting her back. When she rolls her shoulders there’s much more support.

“Sylvain, why are your trousers still on?” She runs her hand over his bare chest, taking care not to catch her nails on the scars there. He catches her hand with his and kisses her palm. Then he starts unbuttoning his trousers.

Before she can check herself, Mercedes examines how he works at the buttons. His left hand is still clumsy and numb. She’s held out hope for a while, but it seems that there will be no full recovery for him. She shakes away those thoughts before he’s fully undressed himself. Sylvain’s adapted just fine, and he seems to find it only a mild annoyance. And when his trousers come off, she can see him already a little aroused.

“Much better,” she says, rewarding Sylvain with a bit of Noa fruit. She licks her fingers clean and then runs them through his hair, watching him melt into the mattress.

“I must have been very good to deserve this,” he mumbles. He may very well fall asleep like this.

“What makes you think that? What if I’ve been very good, and get to have you napping on my lap as a reward?” She drags her finger around the shell of his ear. He shivers, a little exaggerated for good effect.

“If this is a reward for you, let me reward you _every night_ ,” Sylvain moans. Mercedes feeds him another slice of Noa fruit. 

“Do you want to go to sleep like this?” she asks.

“I could,” Sylvain opens his eyes, tipping his head back awkwardly to face her without leaving her lap. “Or we could do something a little more exciting.”

Mercedes takes one of the chocolates, chewing it slowly. She moans without thinking, diving her hand into Sylvain’s hair and taking hold. It tastes so good.

“Mercy, Mercie,” Sylvain pleas through a laugh.

Mercedes loosens her hold on Sylvain’s hair with a giggle. He rolls off her lap and gets onto his hands and knees, leaning in to kiss her. Mercedes turns her head at the last moment, taking a kiss on the cheek.

“No need to rush,” she scolds. She pecks the tip of his nose, delighting in his over-the-top pout. “We have so much time now. And I want to use every second.”

Sylvain flops onto the mattress. “Well, when you put it that way…” he purrs. Curled up slightly, his scar mostly disappears in a fold of skin. Mercedes does her best not to stare, but Sylvain follows her line of sight faster than she can look away.

“Mercedes,” he says, sounding more serious now, “don’t think about it. I’d do it again a thousand times to get this with you.”

“We would be here even if you didn’t get hurt,” Mercedes says. “I just wish—well, I wish for a lot of things, I suppose. Better to embrace the now.” She takes up a grape and feeds it to Sylvain, who makes a ridiculous pleased chuckle.

“The now has his arms open, whenever you’re ready to embrace him,” he says, spreading his arms wide. Mercedes feeds him another grape, a sigh of exasperation doing nothing to reduce her smile.


End file.
